


Pigments of Ebony and Obsidian

by Kairipopa



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Art AU, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pure fluff!, art student!minho, journalism major!jisung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 17:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairipopa/pseuds/Kairipopa
Summary: Minho is an exhausted art major who hates color theory. Jisung is a journalist who doesn’t understand why he has to write reports on the art displayed in his school’s gallery. The two meet when Jisung has some remarks regarding Minho's painting, and the latter can't help but go along with him.





	Pigments of Ebony and Obsidian

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for the SKZ writing fest, and my prompt was "Character A is an artist (painting/drawing or pottery/sculpture) and their pieces are on exhibition. Character B is either a journalist or an art blogger, come to check out the show to write something about it. B doesn't know A is the artist and when A asks B what they think of the artworks, B says they don't really understand what the theme is/don't really enjoy them. A is amused and invites B to continue. B goes on a rant. A is eventually called away and B realizes, horrified, that A is the artist."
> 
> Please enjoy!!

Minho’s hand was shaking by the time he put his paintbrush down, letting out a large sigh and falling back against his chair. This semester was taxing, even more so since painting wasn’t his specialty, and Minho was quite frankly over it. He was sick of color combinations, whether he should use purple in the eyes or if it would clash too much with the yellow undertones in the skin color. He was tired of thoroughly washing and cleaning his acrylic brushes every day, and even more exhausted by the amount of effort painting a portrait took him. Even after all the work he put into it, he’d still much rather seen it shredded and burned instead of where it was really going to end up- his school’s art museum.

Minho hated being displayed at his own school’s art museums because of two reasons.

He always had to attend, for one, and he hated being interviewed by overbearing student journalists. It was seriously a lose-lose situation on both ends, because who in their right mind would enjoy writing about shitty artwork on display? Minho loves art, but he’s never understood why people have to dig so deeply into it. He makes art because it’s fun and he loves it, not because he wants some stuck up jerk to critique his painting techniques.

Regardless, he was finally finished, so Minho decided to bring the painting to the very empty art room his professor wanted it in and called up Chan, his roommate and best friend.

“Hey,” Minho said, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he locked the door behind him.

“I told you that texting is a lot more convenient than calling, Min.” Chan replies with a sigh.

“Yeah okay,” Minho said, closing the now-locked door. “Do you want to go out for dinner?”

Chan hummed and Minho heard some clanking on the other boy’s end, probably searching for whatever half-assed planner he had that he boasted made him more organized. Minho begged to differ.

“Ah- I would but I don’t get paid until next-“

“It’s on me, Channie. I just finished that godforsaken painting and I seriously don’t need to eat another slice of pizza.” The other boy sighed and gave in, agreeing to meet Minho at the bus stop so they could indulge in a barbecue dinner. It was, honestly, quite the celebration. Both Minho and Chan were stressed to the max this semester, between Minho’s clear distaste for painting and Chan’s relationship issues that annoyed Minho because clearly if he’d just talk to Felix then this wouldn’t be happening right now-

Settling down in the dimly lit restaurant was calming, therapeutic almost. The sounds of sizzling meat and simple chatter combined with the smell and aesthetic of the overall place was exactly what Minho needed to unwind.

Once the pair ordered their dinner and drinks, Chan began interrogating the younger.

“Did you get a picture of the finished painting? You worked on it for so long, I wanna see it!” Minho simply rolled his eyes at his friend’s wonder in the art world.

Chan himself was a music major and Minho was quite intrigued in that world as well. He was never great at music, always opted to stick to the physical arts where he felt most comfortable. Performing in front of people wasn’t his most favorite thing because he wasn’t great at reading people. Well, not exactly, it’s just that reading people took too much effort and Minho would rather use that effort to do something more productive.

Like drawing.

“No, I didn’t. You know I hated that thing. Who would even paint purple eyelashes to contrast the sunny highlights?” Minho scoffed, turning to drink the water next to him. Chan’s face dropped slightly, but he could tell it was the answer he expected.

“Well didn’t you say it was going in the museum tomorrow? I’d like to go and see it.” Chan muttered, almost talking to himself.

“You could always invite Felix along, yknow, make it a date.” Minho suggested with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a smirk. He loved teasing about the other’s love life despite the lack of his own.

He got the reaction he wanted when Chan sputtered on his drink.

“I-I guess so,” Chan coughed one more time and brought a napkin to his mouth.

“Oh? Did something happen between you two?” He inquired, pushing a little harder now that the stress of painting was off his mind. It was cute to see his best friend so whipped for another person, but it also made Minho feel good. Chan was a little too giving at times, not recognizing the people who simply want to use him and throw him away. From what Chan has said about Felix though, the little Australian boy wanted nothing other than to be close with the older boy.

That, and maybe to make out with him. Who was Minho to judge?

“Nothing significant,” Chan tried to hide, averting his eyes away from their table. Oh, something most definitely happened.

“Hm, that’s interesting. Well, I expect to see him at the museum if nothing else.” Minho decided that was enough teasing for the night, and not long after their food was ready to eat.

“But what about you?” Chan asked between mouthfuls of meat.

“What about me?” Minho replied after swallowing a particularly good ssam wrap.

“When are you going to find someone? I’ve known you for years now and I know you don’t exactly have an interest in it but…” Chan trailed off, not sure on how to continue without seeming rude. Honestly, Minho wondered this himself a lot. It just seemed to be too much effort to truly put himself out there and make himself available for potential boyfriends. Minho would rather binge watch a new Kdrama than go out to a club or party, which is why he was glad he had Chan. Although the other wasn’t exactly a huge party-goer, he definitely went to some and knew quite a few people because of it.

Minho shrugged his shoulders and played around with the rice in his bowl. “Just haven’t found the right person, I guess. I need there to be a connection and there usually just… isn’t.”

Chan understood to some extent, so he dropped the topic for the rest of the night.

Minho, however, thought about it for hours.

But then forgot about it the next morning when he woke up at 9 in the morning, which may not sound terrible, but was worse when you consider his usual 5am bedtime.

He quickly showered and threw on a black hoodie and dark jeans, something that didn’t scream “I’m an art major”. Minho preferred to stay under the radar, simply appeasing his professors’ weird expectations.

Before leaving, Chan was just starting to wake up. Minho saw the boy check his phone and smile, and that was enough for him to know that Felix was the reason for his reaction.

“You’d better bring him to the museum with you today, or I’ll lock you both in my closet.” Minho said simply, pulling his sneakers on and walking out. He had the liberty of seeing the Australian boy’s face pale before he left, knowing that Minho would keep his word. A smirk graced his lips as he made his way to the gallery, a pleasant 20 minute walk from their dorm. 

Minho was fashionably late, as per usual. He tried to avoid being the first artist there, too many cameras and journalists around to be enjoyable. At first he tried to just blend in with the gallery-lookers, cringing at the time that each artist must have put into each piece. Beside him, another person must have been thinking the same thing. The person let out a long sigh, and Minho turned to see a boy his age with a small notepad and circle glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He was cute, Minho couldn’t lie, and the boy flipped through some pages before letting out another sigh. 

“This is just ridiculous!” The boy moaned out, his arm going limp and a pout gracing his lips. Minho turned towards the boy, a questioning look gracing his features. Usually reporters were beyond excited to get inside information on the exhibits and artists, but this boy seemed to be quite the opposite.

“What, you don’t enjoy artwork?” Minho asked curiously, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. Startled at the attention, the boy jumped slightly and gripped his notepad tightly.

“No, it’s just-” The boy waved his arm around for emphasis. “I have no idea what the underlying meaning could possibly be in any of these pieces. Like, that painting there-” The boy pointed out, almost comically, Minho’s godforsaken painting. Stifling a laugh, Minho went along with his antics.

“Why would the artist ever use something like purple for eyelashes? Are they colorblind or high on drugs? It’s a pretty painting, but there’s no way I can report on stuff like this. I just wanted to work on social media, not write about boring stuff like this.” He pushes his glasses up with a sigh and turns to Minho.

“Why are you even here? It doesn’t seem like art galleries are your thing.” Minho hummed and smiled.

“They’re not, but someone special to me is displaying their art here today. I had to come and support them, of course.” The boy nodded and turned back to Minho’s painting, clearly racking his brain for things to say about the piece.

“Why don’t you interview the artist who painted it? Might be a good place to start.” The artist suggested. The reporter squinted at the name plaque and quickly shook his head.

“No, the artists displayed here are too stuck up. I can’t deal with those type of people.”

“But won’t you deal with that in the future if you’re in a journalism field?” The boy thought about it, but then shook his head.

“Probably, but I’d rather not. I’ll just come up with some bullshit story and call it a day.” Minho noticed the other’s eyes linger on his for a second longer than would be normal, and he didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like he was dressed up nice today, or anything of the sort. This kid was definitely interesting.

Minho decided to leave him alone and let him work on his assignment, but fate just so happened to be against him.

“Minho!” a voice called out, only to belong to the one and only Bang Chan. Minho internally cringed, knowing his cover was blown to the reporter.

“Ah, hey.” Minho greeted him and Felix, who suspiciously was holding onto Chan’s hand. Something definitely happened. “You’re pretty early.”

Minho could feel the cute reporter tune in to their conversation, most likely out of habit.

“We just got breakfast quick and came over. Which painting is yours? All of them look so incredible!” Chan exclaimed, taking in the gallery around him.

“Ah- it’s this one here.” Minho pointed out, standing next to the reporter. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the boy’s eyes widen in shock, a hand coming up to his mouth. He turned to confront the artist, but Minho gave him a wink and put his finger to his lips to keep him from making a commotion.

“Wow, you really put a lot of work into this. I can tell.” Chan noted, eventually talking exclusively with Felix about the piece. Jisung grabbed Minho’s arm and pulled him away from the display, into another room in the gallery entirely.

“You’re really the artist of that piece?” The boy asked, bright red dancing along his chubby cheeks. Minho found it adorable.

“The one and only.” The boy looked incredibly ashamed, hanging his head and shutting his eyes tightly.

“I’m really sorry about everything I said then.” The boy finally looked up, and Minho could tell just how apologetic he was. “I let my emotions get the best of me and I was just really annoyed this morning. Not even over your painting, just because I was already running late to get here and then I ended up spilling hot chocolate all over my white sneakers and then you showed up looking all cute and I knew I looked like shit so I felt like I had to prove myself, and- and my roommate called me just before I got here to say that our fridge stopped running and-”

“It’s a garbage painting anyways, like you said. In fact, I think I’ll burn it after this show.” Minho said, a smile gracing his lips as a way to show that he wasn’t, in fact, mad, but rather intrigued. Especially by the offhand comment about Minho’s looks. Definitely a cutie.

The boy gave a hesitant smile before giggling, and they both were thrown into a fit of laughter before long. Minho let his hand rest on the boy’s shoulder, a comfortable presence.

“You know, I didn’t get your name, Mr. Cute Reporter.” The artist said offhandedly, knowing it would rile the boy up. 

“Ah- it’s Jisung. Han Jisung.”

“Cute name for a cute boy.”

“Minho, you know I had to work late tonight, why are you pouting so much?”

“Missed you.” Minho said with a huff.

It had been nearly three months after the two met, and decided to try dating despite their “tragic way of meeting”, according to Jisung. The older boy would let himself be interviewed for Jisung’s projects and in return, Jisung was the muse for all of Minho’s paintings. He didn’t quite hate the whole painting thing anymore, now that he had a muse.

“I literally saw you 6 hours ago, you’re being so dramatic.” Jisung giggled while falling into his boyfriend’s arms. It felt right, warm, and like everything he was missing in life.

“You know there’s an art exhibit happening tonight.” Minho mentioned, burying his face into Jisung’s shoulder. “Should we go?”

“And fall in love all over again?” Jisung sighed and leaned his head on the other. “I’d criticize art a million times over if it was you.”

“You’re so corny.” Minho said and shut his boyfriend up with a kiss.

“You’re in love with this corny ass though.” Jisung retorted, landing another kiss on his boyfriend’s soft lips.

“Mm, you’re right. I really am in love.”

And if Minho got inspiration for a painting of Jisung where his face was lit up by pale blue hues of the moon and his dark hair a mess of ebony and obsidian, no one had to know.


End file.
